


Slowly, Then All at Once, a Dream

by writesthrice



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Heist-fic, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Soulmates Who Dream of Each Other, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesthrice/pseuds/writesthrice
Summary: Jeremy Dooley was a good man. He'd never call himself that, of course, but anyone with eyes could see it. He was helpful and kind, always ready with a fond word and dumb joke, bringing in sunshine through every cloudy day.His Soulmate on the other hand....Well.
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 5
Kudos: 132





	1. Dreams at First

**Author's Note:**

> So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.  
> -Christopher Reeves
> 
> This is for the wonderful Cole over on the RT Writing Community Discord server!
> 
> Original prompt: FAHC - Soulmate AU where you dream you’re seeing whatever your soulmate is currently experiencing.

Ryan Haywood couldn't sleep.

He moved restlessly through his own home in silence, the heavy curtains leaving everything in darkness, anxiety thrumming through his veins. Exhaustion was weighing him down, but the fear refused to let him sleep. Fear of what, exactly, was anyone's fucking guess.

If only Los Santos could see him now, their most terrifying assassin, pacing and fretting over  _ nothing _ ! Nothing, and everything. 

His mind just wouldn't quiet down, and the more tired he got, the more anxious he became, the harder it was to urge his exhausted body to relax into sleep.

Ryan dropped onto the couch, rubbing roughly at his burning eyes. The motion brought his Soulmark into view, and he paused, captivated by it, as always.

It was such a delicate little thing, a tiny cat tattoo barely the length of his thumb, curled in sleep on the palm of his left hand. With an ache deep down in his chest, he stroked a fingertip along the cat's back, and watched in familiar awe as the little beast yawned and stretched before curling back up.

God, his soulmate was something special.

Not that Ryan had ever met him, not really, not  _ yet _ .

Just in his dreams, when his own soul wasn't quite so bound to the bones, and he could  _ see _ what the other man saw. Could  _ feel _ him, intimate and immediate. 

Ryan blinked away the frustrated tears that welled up, and sighed heavily. Not that he could retain enough information to actually  _ seek out _ his soulmate, no, that would be too easy. 

Instead, it was like waking from a vague dream, mostly nothing concrete to hold on to. Just an image here or there, moments that had made his soulmate's soul sing out in intense emotion that he'd brought back. 

Many of those almost-memories are, to Ryan's eternal amusement, cats or kittens - which explained his Soulmark. A few occasions of free alcohol that made him laugh at his soulmate's earnest joy. A pang of sadness and the image of a closed casket. A sunset so beautiful he'd woke with tears on his face and his chest tight in wonder.

Ryan scrubbed his hands across his face again, and heaved to his feet as the anxiety rippled through him once more, resuming his agitated pacing.

If only he could sleep. He  _ knew _ his soulmate was awake right now, knew he could abandon his own loneliness for a while, leave behind the empty house and the anxiety, could spend a few precious hours feeling something other than  _ incomplete _ .

Ryan wished he could find him. Wanted it with a burning desperation that had, on occasion, driven him to brutal and murderous rampages. 

It wasn't like he had a name or number he could look up, or even knew what the other man looked like, or sounded like. He only knew him by the contents of his soul, and would know him if-  _ when _ they saw each other for the first time. 

Ryan stopped again, a soft sigh escaping him. The other man's soul was a wondrous thing, felt of the frisson of sunlight falling across an upturned face on a cold day, tasted of happiness, sweet and bold and fierce all at once. 

In the darkness of his living room, staring down at the sleeping cat on his cupped palm, Ryan wondered how he would ever,  _ ever _ deserve to be loved by such a man.

And so, calm, and sleep, continued to elude him.

Jeremy Dooley was a good man. He'd never  _ call _ himself that, of course, but anyone with eyes could see it. He was helpful and kind, always ready with a fond word and dumb joke, bringing in sunshine through every cloudy day.

No one would ever guess how heavily this city weighed on him.

Not just the city, if he were honest with himself.

He had to resist peeking down his shirt, had to force himself to drag his eyes to the window. 

He just wanted to look at his Soulmark, wanted to stare down at the dramatic, and fucking  _ giant _ , skull that lurked on his left pectoral. It was black, but wreathed in blue flames that moved gently in an unseen wind, that almost seemed to crackle and spit on his skin, a mesmerizing dance he still found himself watching frequently, these years after it had appeared.

_ Long fucking years _ , he thought bitterly to himself. 

He'd come to this shithole of a city chasing his soulmate, following a tiny hint from his dreams, and his gut instinct.

This  _ city.  _ Fucking,  _ Achievement City _ . What a joke. This place was dirty and cruel, its own set of rules cut and carved into the living flesh of its residents, many of whom lived in fear.

He hated it, actually. Hated most of all that he was growing numb to it.

Jeremy closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of grief washed over him. His soulmate was … complicated.

Well, maybe not so much.

The man was a criminal. 

Too many of the pseudo-memories from his soulmate were violence, were death and fear and destruction and rage. Too many of Jeremy's nights had been filled with the other man's murderous profession for him to even  _ try _ to deny it, even to himself.

For a very long time, he'd been  _ terrified _ of the man, wanted nothing to do with him, was afraid of what the other man might do to  _ him _ . 

But, as he grew more used to the idea, less instantly horrified, he realized his other half was hardly a monster.

Jeremy almost clenched his hands into fists, had to shove his hands in his hoodie pocket to resist the urge. No, his Soulmate's soul was dark as sin, but it contained an  _ absolute _ gentleness that confounded Jeremy to no end. Gentleness and fear, surrounded by anger, and dipped in hate, the soul he could sense was at once bigger than life and small enough to hold in his cupped palm.

And lonely. Fuck, the other man was so  _ goddamn alone _ .

"You with me, buddy?"

Jeremy flashed a wide and charming smile at his best friend, hiding his bone-deep despair with practised ease. "Where else would I be?"

Matt Bragg squinted at him over his glasses for a moment, then put his eyes back on the road. 

"Dunno, man. You tell me?" It came out more a question than anything else, an invitation for Jeremy to talk.

Jeremy let his smile relax into something more real, "I'm okay. Just tired. They've been running us ragged since the Fakes picked up that new hacker, y'know?"

Matt nodded in agreement. Now that Jeremy was looking, he could tell the other man was exhausted, too. Tense through his shoulders and holding his body a little stiffly.

Their jobs  _ had _ gotten a little more interesting of late. Working at a digital security firm in  _ this _ city was a never-ending fight to begin with. 

With Achievement City's bizarrest up-and-coming gang, the Fake AH Crew, letting it be known they'd hired themselves a killer hacker? Well. The banks have been desperate to contract anyone and everyone they could to beef up security. Which meant he and Matt had become hard-pressed to find a moment of peace.

To be completely honest, Jeremy was glad of the distraction.

So long as they stayed buried in work, he could pretend that he hadn't figured out who his soulmate was, could pretend he hadn't known for  _ six months _ and done nothing.

So long as he spent his every waking moment being  _ very busy _ , he didn't have to fully admit to himself, or anyone else, that Achievement City's biggest, baddest boogeyman was his Soulmate.

He could just keep on pretending that he wasn't fate-bound to the fucking  _ Vagabond _ , of all people.


	2. Impossible

Jeremy tossed and turned in his bed. He kept jerking awake, heart pounding, but couldn't remember what he'd been seeing. Something dangerous, he was certain.

On his chest, the blue flames of his Soulmark were faintly luminescent, another oddity he'd never heard of, and the fire flickered with something like agitation. He pressed an open palm over it, wanting so badly to soothe his other half, felt his own heartbeat thrumming steadily. The blue flames parted around his hand, curled back like it might actually burn him, but the fire soon surged back to his fingers, licking at him.

He always expected it to feel hot, but all he ever felt was his own skin, the Soulmark too much a part of him to have a separate sensation. 

Jeremy flipped over, pressing his chest into his bed, and closed his eyes again. Even if his Soulmate wouldn't know either way, he didn't want to leave him out there alone.

Jeremy grasped at the threads of his own exhaustion and followed them determinedly into sleep.

Ryan was calm. His hands were steady, heart rate only slightly elevated, breathing fine. Calm.

He popped up over the hood of the car he'd been using for cover, squeezing off two shots before dropping back down amid a rain of returning fire.

Two shots, two dead.

These fools determined to waste every bullet they had were  _ amateurs _ . Still too green to be able to do quality shooting, they were going for sheer quantity and hoping to get lucky.

They were panicked and erratic, two things the Vagabond never was. It paid to keep a cool head in a shootout.

He leaned around the trunk of the car, staying low and in the shadows, and took out three of the gang members while they all looked in the wrong spot.

A few of the living ones broke and ran, unnerved.

The cowards.

He smirked to himself. This was supposed to be a quick, one-kill hit, but the man who hired him had neglected to mention that the target had  _ friends _ . No big deal, though. He was counting every corpse and planning to add them all to the bill.

A hand closed over his face and a gun shoved into his kidney.

In half a heartbeat, Ryan twisted free; the man squeezed off a single shot, and then died with a knife in his throat.

"Fuck," Ryan snarled to himself, his hand pressing briefly to his side. It came away bloody.

"Fuck," Jeremy snarled himself awake, heart thrumming erratically as he clutched at his side in panic.

_ He _ was fine.

Gasping for air, he pressed his fists into his eyes and let out a howl of anguish. 

_ Shot, shot, he's been shot! _

Tears streaked his face. He pressed both hands over his Soulmark, as if to cradle it. 

"Please, be okay," he murmured, fear and regret flowing through him in waves. " _ Please _ ."

Ryan was leaving a trail, blood splatter in his wake, but he didn't care. He'd be fine, just a deep graze, but it hurt like a motherfucker and he was  _ angry _ about it. 

People didn't  _ sneak up _ on the Vagabond. He'd been distracted, and it could have cost him his life.

He groaned as he threw a leg over his bike, the ache in his side flaring into sharp pain again at the motion. 

Getting shot fucking sucked. 

The drive to his nearest safehouse was a blur, between the blood loss and draining adrenaline. But he made it in one piece and patched himself up with steady hands.

After a painful and careful shower, Ryan sat on the bed and turned his burner phone over and over in his hands, thinking. 

The man who hired him fucked up.

Big time.

Got him shot. There's a new hole in his jacket he was gonna have to fix. He got blood on his bike.

And he  _ was _ free tomorrow, he could fill that time with a nice torture-murder. 

Or he could threaten the man into more money. A lot more money. No one short-changes the Vagabond, after all.

He grinned to himself as he flipped open the old phone. It rang twice before a man answered.

"Vagabond," the voice greeted him, amicably enough.

"My price went up, Ramsey. Your target wasn't alone," he growled, putting that extra gravel in his voice to help mask it.

"Ah, fuck," Ramsey muttered. Ryan could hear him rubbing his face, the soft rasp of stubble under his fingers. "Sorry, buddy. I didn't think he had time to bring in backup."

Ryan blinked in surprise.  _ Sorry? _ Who the hell did this guy think he was,  _ apologizing _ ? People don't apologize in this bloody, backstabbing business. 

He just grunted in response to Ramsey. What was he supposed to say?  _ No problem _ ?

"I'll make sure you're adequately, uh,  _ compensated _ , for the extra bullshit. It'll be in your account by morning. Thank you, by the way. See ya around!" Ramsey hung up. 

Ryan just stared down at his phone in shock. Did Ramsey think they were  _ friends _ ? He. He  _ thanked _ the Vagabond? What the fuck?

"Well, I guess I won't kill you, then," he murmured to himself, incredulous.  _ Whatever _ . 

The guy's gonna get himself killed, being  _ nice _ to assassins.

With a snort at his own thought, Ryan crawled into bed. 

For once, he fell asleep quickly.

Jeremy frowned at himself in his bathroom mirror. His eyes were sunken bruises in his face, and bloodshot. He looked almost as tired as he felt.

He'd spent the rest of the night desperately trawling the internet for news of the Vagabond. 

He was praying to every deity he'd ever heard of that no news was good news.

He was ready. Ready to find the Vagabond, ready to face the frightening man and show him the skull on his chest, to grab him and hang on tight. He was ready.

_ bang bang bang _

"Come on, Jere, we've got that job at First National today, we can't be late!"

Matt.

Fuck, Jeremy forgot about work. Had been too upset and afraid all night.

"Just a minute!" He shouted back, leaning out of the bathroom. He rushed to get ready, grabbing his gear. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't miss today, not  _ this _ job. 

The First National Bank of Achievement City was a Big Deal, and they would be paying them  _ plenty _ for their work.

He flung open the door to find Matt frowning and tapping away at his phone, fingers flying over the screen. The taller man looked up at him as he stepped out.

"Damn man, you look like shit!"

"Yeah, thanks," Jeremy grumbled, shouldering past him. "Let's go and get this over with."


	3. Improbable

Jeremy flinched at the first sound of gunshots, rocking up out of his seat. For a heartbeat, he was in a dark alley, pain ripping through his side.

Matt grabbed his elbow, and he stumbled into the man, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

Somehow, Matt looked bored.  _ Getting robbed _ , he mouthed silently at Jeremy, with a shrug.

Fear raced through him, and he felt nauseous. For some reason, he thought of Vagabond, sleeping off his bad night somewhere all alone. 

The door slammed open, and he shouted in alarm, getting a big, silver handgun shoved in his face for his trouble.

"Easy there, kid. Hate to hafta kill ya," the man holding the gun was tall and handsome, with sleepy blue eyes and a smirk curled under his circus-ring-leader mustache. If that wasn't enough to identify him, he was wearing a pristine suit, and had tattoos on his knuckles and hands and wrists, disappearing into his sleeves. 

Geoff Ramsey, leader of the Fake AH Crew.

And his gun was inches away from Jeremy's face.

Terror raced through him, made his heart pound loud in his ears, made his knees weak. 

He could die here, right now.

He pushed the thought away and steeled his spine. Clenched his fists. Tried to channel some of his Soulmate's fire, using anger to push away the fear.

Ramsey's sleepy eyes were sharp, watching him as he shifted from flight to fight. He opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted.

"Cut it out, asshole," Matt growled, shoving Jeremy behind him and pushing the barrel of Ramsey's gun away.

Ramsey laughed, holstering the gun, the moment broken.

Matt grumbled as he pulled his laptop around to them, and went back to typing away on it.

Jeremy stared at Matt's back, shock and harsh disappointment rising in his throat.

"You're … it's  _ you _ . You're Axial," his voice rose with his temper.

Matt's shoulders crept up to his ears, but he didn't answer. 

A hand landing on his shoulder reminded him that they weren't alone.

Ryan rolled out of his bed before he was even fully awake, unfamiliar fear heavy on his tongue, a weapon in his hand before his feet touched the floor.

He paced the length of the room, his gun sweeping in wide, protective arcs, before he realized there was no danger.

At least, for  _ him _ .

"No!" It came out in a snarl. He started getting dressed, yanking on his still-bloody jacket and strapping on his weapons quickly.

His Soulmate was being threatened, and by none other than the self-proclaimed Kingpin of AC, Geoff fucking Ramsey. 

Ryan dug the burner phone out from where he'd tossed it last night, and dialled quickly, pocketing spare ammunition one handed.

The number was disconnected.

He smashed the phone against the wall with a roar.

Fucking Ramsey, he would  _ kill _ that bastard, how dare he point … his gun …

"At my Soulmate," Ryan murmured, heart in his throat.

Surely Ramsey wouldn't point that big pistol of his in  _ that _ many faces today? Right?

Either way, it narrowed things down! He had a lead, a real, tangible  _ lead _ !

Ramsey better  _ pray _ he was gentle with the Vagabond's other half, God help him.

He yanked his mask over his face, covering his own wild grin with the blank one of the black skull.

Time to go.

"Call me Geoff," Ramsey held out a tattooed hand, voice calm despite the screaming alarm that had started up a minute ago.

"Uh. Jeremy." Carefully, he shook the offered hand, not wanting to piss off the crime lord.

"You're Matt's friend, right? The other computer guy?" The older man glanced over at Matt's bent back, then back at Jeremy. His blue eyes were flicking over Jeremy in open interest.

Jeremy fought the urge to step back, instead crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his chin back defiantly. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

Geoff smirked. "Well, we could use another computer guy.  _ And _ you look like you can take care of yourself."

"Lay off him. I told you to leave him out of this," Matt growled from behind them.

"Little late for that, isn't it?" Jeremy answered, bitter. 

Matt flinched at his cutting tone, but didn't respond.

It didn't make Jeremy feel any better about all this.

A crackle and hiss of static at Geoff's hip had him pulling out a walkie-talkie. "What?" He barked into it.

"Five-oh pulling up, boss," a woman's voice answered.

"Ah, right on time. How many?" Geoff checked the watch on his wrist.

"Couple dozen squad cars. Oh, look, they even rolled SWAT for us. The ACPD sure knows how to make a lady feel special," the voice purred.

Ramsey laughed back. "Keep me updated. I think we're almost done back here."

Jeremy was frozen in place. The ACPD were going to surround the bank, and probably rush in guns blazing.

He still might manage to die here, today.

Ryan fiddled with his police scanner, flipping through the channels anxiously. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he figured he'd know it when he heard it.

"-National, all units, 211A in progress, several suspects 10-32. SWAT in-bound. First National, all units-"

With a wild whoop completely uncharacteristic of the Vagabond, Ryan went roaring out of an alley on his favorite big black bike.

211A was a robbery alarm, and 10-32 was an armed suspect. And First National was a helluva big bank.

Sounded like a party.

"And no one invited me!" He shouted with a maniacal laugh, weaving in and out of traffic with reckless abandon, pressed low to his bike for greater speed.

The shrieking alarm cut off, leaving an odd, ringing silence behind it.

"There, it's open," Matt closed his laptop and snatched it up. There was sweat on his forehead.

Geoff grabbed Jeremy's arm and shoved him after Matt, bringing up the rear. 

They met up with some of the other Fakes at a heavy metal door that clearly led deeper into the bank. To the vault?

"Took you long enough," one of them snarled, his arms crossed belligerently over his chest. The old-school six-shooter gun Soulmark on his forearm was almost as recognizable as the scowl on his freckled face: Mogar, the Fake's munitions and ordinance expert.

Geoff shoved Jeremy forward into the man, who caught him as he stumbled, a deep frown on his face.

"What the fuck? Since when do we take hostages?"

"Not a hostage," Matt grunted, shoving at the door. "Little help, here?"

Mogar threw his hands in the air and went to help Matt and Geoff swing the door all the way open. 

"Jeremy, right? Matt's friend," An accented voice at his elbow made him jump.

"Yeah? Uh, Golden Boy?" He answered cautiously, looking up at the other man.

"Call me Gavin," he flashed a cocky smile at Jeremy and shook his hand vigorously. He was dressed like this was a night out, not a bank heist: flashy jewelry at his throat, ear, wrist, on his fingers. Diamonds winked from the ornate gold hoop in his septum as he turned his emerald eyes back to watching Matt and Mogar, and Jeremy had caught the subtle clack of a tongue stud against his teeth. 

Gavin was a beautiful man, tall and golden haired, with a stylishly stubbled jaw, all sharp edges and smooth, tanned skin.

Jeremy followed his gaze to Matt, and caught sight of the hand-sized sparrow Soulmark on the back of his neck, peeking through his long hair as he bent his head, a glittering gold that caught the light much as Gavin did.

Ah.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth, something ugly and jealous, but he tried to ignore it. Geoff was gesturing them forward when the last member of the Fakes joined them.

"Boss! We got company!" a gorgeous redhead came around the corner at a brisk walk, calling out to them. She was more than a little pale, and her mouth was drawn in a tight, thin line.

"What? Who?" Geoff's brow furrowed.

She pointed back the way she had come, almost accusingly, "The Goddamned  _ Vagabond _ is out there!"

All the blood drained from Jeremy's face. 

"Vagabond's  _ here _ ?!" His voice came out high and strangled. All eyes turned to him.

Uh-oh.

Ryan eased up the ladder with practiced silence. Right at the top, but not quite visible above the rooftop edge, he paused. Reached into his pocket and drew out a small, compact mirror, and used it to carefully peek over the roof.

Three cops were prone in different positions, eyes pressed to scopes, and foolishly oblivious to their surroundings. Pacing agitatedly behind them was a single lookout, too busy watching the snipers and the scene below to be of any use.

Ryan smiled wickedly behind his mask.

He popped over the ledge and mowed down the pigs with one sweep from his AK. 

Too easy.

He stepped quickly over to the other edge of the rooftop, using a brief moment to take in the lovely view: the ornate front of the First National Bank of Achievement City, a generous empty perimeter, and a swarm of police and SWAT, teeming like insects.

Many of them were peering up at the roof in reaction to the sound of gunfire, some pointing up. There was a visible recoiling among the pigs when he appeared.

These men and women, most of them corrupt and all of them dangerous and stupid, were between him and his Soulmate.

He hefted his gun to his shoulder, and rained down death.

"Tell me what you know." 

It was not a request.

Geoff's hand was hard on Jeremy's shoulder. His gun was pressed firmly and unerringly over Jeremy's heart.

Matt was struggling against Gavin, who had wrapped his arms around him to keep him from interfering. They were both watching in silent horror.

Mogar stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest with a scowl and anger-dark eyes. His fingers drummed along the length of his Soulmark, an absent gesture of impatience.

"I s-swear, I don't know anything! I just- he's supposed to be this scary criminal … " Jeremy's throat felt like it was closing up, and he couldn't get anything to come out of his mouth without stumbling over the words. 

Geoff just stared at him, his sleepy blue-grey eyes dissecting him, piece by piece.

He could see the moment the older man dismissed him, saw the slow tightening of his finger on the trigger.

"I. It's. He's my Soulmate!" Jeremy blurted, the first time he'd ever said it out loud, and it was in a moment of fear, God help him. He buried his face in his hands, swallowing down a shuddering breath too close to a sob.

He heard Geoff suck in a breath in shock, and the gun against him vanished.

Matt pulled free from Gavin and wrapped Jeremy in a tight hug. He clung right back, ducking his face down to hide.

Shame raced through him: shame at being so afraid to say it, shame at saying it while so afraid. "Does he know?" The kind, feminine voice startled Jeremy into looking up from Matt's shoulder. A few stray tears fell down his cheeks.

"No," he answered softly, regret coloring the word.

The woman smiled at him, gently. "Well, honey, I think he might be trying to find you."

Jeremy shivered against Matt for a moment, and wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement at the thought.

"Jack, c'mon. We don't have  _ time _ for this!" Mogar gestured at the woman, urging her to follow him. Geoff and Gavin had already vanished.

Jack gave Jeremy a gentle pat on his head. "Stay with Matt, okay? He knows the Plan." 

With a wink, she darted away, following Mogar down the hall back the way she had come.

Jeremy looked up at Matt, brushing the tears away with a determined scowl.

"What's the Plan, then?"

Matt grinned.


	4. Inevitable

"How is this  _ planned _ ?!" Jeremy had to scream to be heard over the roar of the gunfire.

The cops had snuck in, and the Fakes, plus Jeremy, were pinned down in the office area of the bank. Duffles of cash and valuables were piled by their sides.

"Shut up and let me think!" Geoff shouted over them.

A distant explosion had them ducking further behind their cover.

"What-?"

A second, bigger explosion consumed the question.

Eyes fell on Mogar.

He threw his hands up in bewilderment. "Wasn't me!"

Jack had a thoughtful look on her face, eyes on Jeremy.

The bank rocked with a deep, resonant  _ boom _ that was as much felt as heard, and everything vanished in a wave of dust and smoke, the lights all failing as something electrical broke.

A brief moment of settling, then-

Machine-gun fire, muzzle-flashes ghostly in the abrupt darkness.

Screaming, running, begging. Orders to fall back, regroup outside.

Death himself, appearing through the dust, a flashlight held up, silence falling as the fleeing cops left their dead behind.

"Ramsey!" A deep voice called out. The figure was advancing slowly, head turning this way and that.

It was Vagabond.

"Geoff, what do we do, Geoff?" Gavin hissed frantically at their leader, fear evident in his shaky voice.

"Might be our only chance!" Geoff hissed back, his eyes falling contemplatively on Jeremy. "And we have insurance, anyway."

The man surged to his feet, hands popping up immediately as the flashlight and a gun swiveled to focus on him.

"Vagabond! Hey! Fancy, uh, meeting you here. You come here often?" Geoff's voice was tense beneath the almost-pleasant tone.

"Shut up, Ramsey," that voice was cold and dark, a threat hidden beneath the words.

"We have someone you want, don't we?" Geoff answered quickly, voice calm and sure.

Jeremy shivered, afraid for Vagabond in that heavy moment of silence. 

Ryan froze. 

Ramsey knew. He  _ knew _ .

Fuck. How? Did they hurt him?

He couldn't answer the man around the lump of terror in his throat.

"You're gonna need to get us all out, or he'll die in here with us!" Ramsey's words made him move.

He stalked forward, an uncomfortably  _ animal _ snarl ripping out of his throat.

"What have you  _ done _ ?!"

Ramsey was brave. Ryan would give the man that, even as he snatched him by the front of his ruined suit jacket and pulled him close. The older man grimaced, a wary look to his face, but he met Ryan's eyes boldly.

It pissed him off to no end.

"Where is he?" His voice had dropped, dark and dangerous and  _ quiet _ in his fury. Fully in the Vagabond mindset. Ready to kill or be killed.

"Stop! I'm right here!"

The voice came from beyond Ramsey, strong and bold, if a little shaky. 

Ryan shoved Ramsey to the side and took a hesitant step towards the short figure that had called out. 

Jeremy was shaking like a leaf, terror a heavy flavor on his tongue. But he tilted his chin up defiantly, tired of running from the idea of his Soulmate.

He had to fight to not flinch when Vagabond took a step towards him, but when the bigger man hesitated, his heart broke.

He ran for the man, slammed hard into his middle and wrapped his arms tight around him.

"Hi," he breathed into Vagabond's chest.

"Hello," the bigger man's voice trembled, gentle and awed.

Jeremy leaned back a little, peering up into the eyes sockets of the skull mask. He stuck his hand out with a tremulous grin.

"I'm Jeremy Dooley. I'm pretty sure you're my Soulmate."

Ryan gripped the smaller man's hand like it was a lifeline, and pulled him close again, tight to his body.

"Jeremy," Ryan breathed the name softly, reverently.

His Soulmate lit up, a smile and a blush racing each other across his beautiful face.

A hand landing on Jeremy's elbow had him tensing up, reminded him that this was not a safe moment.

"There'll be time  _ later _ ," a slender man with glasses and shoulder length hair urged them, clearly uncomfortable being this close to Ryan, but with a determined set to his mouth.

"We need to get outta here," Jeremy said, looking up at Ryan with his beautiful eyes wide with his fear.

"Stay close to me, okay?" He murmured pressing the forehead of his mask to Jeremy's, desperate to convey calm to the other man with the quick gesture.

"Follow me," he growled at the others, and turned away without waiting to see if they obeyed. His  _ only _ concern was the hand that gripped the back of his jacket and hung on tight as he strode away, an extra set of footsteps falling in line with him and complimenting his own.

"Wait," he ordered in a half-breath, stopping sharply at a blind corner, arm coming out to stop Jeremy from running into him.

A moment later, a flashlight beam cut through the darkness, but kept going obliviously past them: a cop.

After making sure the shadowy figure was well past them, they continued on, heading down the way the cop had come.

Jeremy's fingers were fisted so tightly in Vagabond's jacket, he was probably ruining the leather.

He couldn't find it in him to care.

Vagabond himself didn't seem to mind, just kept guiding them through the dark bank with increasing caution.

They turned a corner and sunlight blinded them.

Several walls of the bank had been exploded inwards, and there was rubble strewn  _ everywhere _ .

"Whoa," a voice murmured behind him. Jeremy glanced over his shoulder to see Mogar staring at the destruction with a wide grin. "Fuckin'  _ A _ , man."

Vagabond chuckled at that, an oddly sweet sound from the big man. 

"Thanks," he answered, and it sounded like he was smiling. "Just wait until you see my next trick."

Jeremy watched Vagabond slip his hand into his pocket, and braced himself. The others had less warning as another bomb went off, this one taking out cars and cops in the bank's parking lot.

"Run!"

At Vagabond's shout, they all took off, skirting the damaged parts of the bank and dashing outside to flee mostly unnoticed in the falling debris, screams, and chaos.

"Follow me," Jack yelled, darting ahead of everyone and taking a sharp turn down a side-alley. 

They followed her through several alleys and then into a parking garage not far from the bank. Three very obvious getaway cars were parked nearest their entrance: one was a hot pink, one a very vibrant full chrome, and the last was a more normal black.

Jack headed for the black one, Geoff the pink one, and Mogar, trailing Matt and Gavin, the chrome, everyone tossing duffels of cash into trunks. 

Jeremy went to follow Matt, then froze, and looked back up at his Soulmate.

"What about you?"

Vagabond shuffled his feet in a way that didn't really match up with his reputation.

"I can make my own way," he muttered, uncertainly.

"Come on Jeremy, V! You're riding with me!" Jack waved at them, gesturing to her black car.

Jeremy beamed up at Vagabond.

_ This is really awkward _ . Ryan thought to himself, sitting stiffly in Jack Pattillo's back seat. 

She's perhaps the greatest pilot and/or getaway driver of the  _ century _ , and he was watching her  _ use her turn signal _ as she pulled into traffic.

A hand gripped his, and he glanced over at Jeremy, the awkwardness vanishing, replaced by a swelling warmth.

"Hi," Jeremy murmured, a light blush spreading across his face.

"Hello," Ryan answered again, amused. After a moment, he reached up and tugged off his mask.

White and black face paint left him looking even more like a spectre of death, but he didn't care. 

He pulled Jeremy closer as he cupped the smaller man's face with one hand.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice had dropped deeper, but was gentle and soft.

"God yes," Jeremy blurted out, then surged forward to lock lips with him.

The paint wasn't even scary, it was mesmerizing. And it was all over Jeremy's face now, as their first kiss turned into several and a full on make-out session in Jack's car.

At the safe house, the woman gave him a subtle fist bump behind Vagabond's back.

"V's a good guy, I think," she murmured to him, eyes on the big man as he slipped his mask back on. She shot Jeremy a crooked grin. "For a criminal, anyway."

He laughed.

Geoff didn't need much encouragement to cut Ryan in on the take. And Jeremy got a bit of the cash, too, much as he originally despised the idea. 

But, he found himself coming around to the idea, watching the Fakes interact with one another as they wound down.

Mogar- or rather,  _ Michael _ , was drunkenly leaning up on his tiptoes to drag Geoff into a  _ filthy _ kiss, to applause and boos alike. That old-fashioned six-shooter on his forearm was for  _ Geoff _ ! 

Gavin, with a knowing grin and a lap full of intoxicated-and-now-sleepy Matt, leaned over to Jeremy and nodded at the two. 

"Geoff's got a bundle of dynamite on his thigh, 's badass," he slurred with a grin and a laugh. "Michael's  _ explosive _ !"

Jack, one of the one's booing, stepped out with a wide grin as her phone went off. Gavin nodded after her, now.

"Jack's got a civvy girl." His face grew serious. "But we keep her out of  _ everything _ . She could get hurt!"

"Of course," Jeremy muttered wryly, looking down at his hands and arms where he was scraped and bruised from the surprise bank robbery he'd been part of.

"What about you, then? Vagabond's a scary bloke, what Soulmark you got for him?"

Jeremy blushed, his eyes automatically darting to the dark figure of Vagabond, who was watching the celebrating with an off-putting aloofness.

That skull mask turned towards him, as if sensing his eyes on him, and just like that, Vagabond was coming over.

Gavin made an undignified noise and urged Matt up so they could escape, stumbling away and leaving Jeremy pinned beneath blue, blue eyes.

Before either of them could speak, Geoff cut in.

"You're welcome to the guest room. If you want."

Vagabond hesitated.

"It locks  _ and _ has an ensuit," the crime lord added, one eyebrow quirking up.

"Okay," Jeremy blurted out, looking up at Vagabond with a blush.

Ryan removed his paint slowly, methodically. He was too aware of Jeremy in the other room, everything in him coiled and tense, but he looked down at the cat in his palm again and again, reminding himself that  _ this _ person, this  _ one  _ person, he could trust, fully and wholly.

He opened the door slowly, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

Jeremy was smiling at him. A big, beautiful smile that relaxed him completely and made him wonder why he'd ever been nervous at all.

He sat next to the other man on the edge of the bed and held out his hand, showing off the slumbering cat in his palm.

"My Soulmark," he explained softly.

Jeremy stared at it wide-eyed, a delighted grin on his face. He ran his finger along the back, and startled when the little feline opened an eye and then fully turned to look at him.

"Oh! Yours moves too!"

"Too?" Ryan asked him, shocked. He'd just kind assumed … well. No one else he'd ever asked had ever  _ heard _ of a Soulmark that moved.

Jeremy stripped his shirt off, which, wow, okay, those  _ arms _ , but then everything else vanished from his mind as he saw the flaming skull emblazoned across Jeremy's chest.

"It's  _ huge _ !" He couldn't help his loud exclamation.

Jeremy fell backwards in an immediate fit of giggles. 

"Oh my  _ God, _ Vagabond,  _ no _ ! They're going to think we're….!" And the rest dissolved into more laughter.

Ryan huffed, face red, but already beginning to laugh, too, "They better not think  _ that _ , with you laughing!"

It didn't take much more to have them both laughing fitfully on the bed grabbing hold of each other and shushing one another vainly.

The laughter died down, leaving them both warm and happy, cuddled up together at the end of the bed. 

Vagabond held his hand out to Jeremy, a smile on his face.

"Ryan Haywood."

Jeremy's grin was huge. "Kiss me, Ryan."

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I may have gone a bit off-prompt, but i really hope you like it, Cole!


End file.
